


Beg for Grace in Vain

by Meridians_of_Madness



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bottom Gabriel, Gabriel Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Genital formation, Humiliation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder Fantasy, Oral Sex, Other, Shame, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Meridians_of_Madness
Summary: Beelzebub sneaks upstairs to see Gabriel and to indulge in a very specific kind of fun. Feelings occur.-Filled for the kink meme prompt locatedhere.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Beg for Grace in Vain

When Hell's delegates ascended to Heaven, they used the big glass elevator at the front of the building. It was large enough that everyone could get a proper rant on before dealing with the opposition, and it was something of a treat for the junior devils to look down on God's Creation and leave fingerprints on the glass.

When Beelzebub went up to Heaven on zir own business, ze had a number of options. The back stairs had been reliable for a few decades until someone broke a lot of hearts in Heaven and it became the popular crying/sulking spot for young angels on a break. For a while during the late 1800s, sneaking into the kitchens and taking the dumbwaiter all the way up to the penthouse was fairly functional, but then Uriel conceived of a secret love of clam chowder at odd parts of the night, and that went bust.

At the moment, ze found that climbing the laundry chute first thing on Monday evening was the easiest way to get from point A to Heaven's highest reaches. Ze started the climb after Dagon had rolled out with the day's work, and just twenty minutes later, after dodging a disgusting rugby uniform somewhere around the thirty-forth floor, ze heaved zirself through a swinging hatch into a closet lined with cedar. The aromatic wood made zir sneeze, but it was meant to keep out moths, not flies, so ze was fine.

Just as ze reached for the door knob, the door opened, so ze grabbed a handful of Gabriel's lapel instead.

“Hello, fuckboy.”

Before Gabriel could open his stupid mouth to respond, Beelzebub stepped into him, too fast to let him back up out of zir way. Zir feet fouled his, and Gabriel went down on his back, Beelzebub dropping neatly on top of him without letting go of his jacket.

“My prince,” Gabriel said. “I hadn't expected you today.”

“Good, that means that no one else will either,” ze said, kneeling up and straddling the archangel's strong thighs. “What have you got?”

Before Gabriel could answer, ze tore at the front of their trousers with a rag-nailed hand, relishing the tear of cashmere and crisp cotton underneath.

“I told you, I wasn't expecting you,” Gabriel said calmly.

Beelzebub snorted, groping the smooth skin between Gabriel's legs roughly. Their carelessness left red scrapes on Gabriel's flesh and sent a raw shudder through him.

“Think I care about that? All it means is that I'll punch in what I like best.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but then he groaned instead as Beelzebub seized his flesh between finger and thumb, pinching hard as ze dug in with two fingers of zir opposite hand. Ze was rough, and by the time ze was done outfitting him with a pretty pink cunt, Gabriel's head was tilted back on the mirror-polished floor, mouth open and panting hard.

Beelzebub leaned up to kiss Gabriel's gaping mouth, their hand, wet with Gabriel's own arousal, cupping his face.

“Get up, fuckboy,” ze said. “I want the conference room tonight.”

-

The conference room was a floor below Gabriel's office, and getting there involved a brief pause in the janitor's closet as a pair of angels went by with stacks of paper for the shredder. Gabriel let them into the conference room with a gesture, but when he went to lock it, Beelzebub shook zir head.

“You don't get a lock tonight.”

Beelzebub felt a thrill of excitement as Gabriel hesitated. Was this what would do it? Would this finally make Heaven's fairest balk? Ze grinned hard when Gabriel let his hand reluctantly fall to his side.

“No lights,” he said instead. “If we turn on the lights, someone will be up in a heartbeat.”

Beelzebub wandered curiously up to the floor to ceiling windows that lined the conference room. At night, the lights of creation shimmered below, blue and white and gentle in a way they really wouldn't be up close. They were beautiful, and when Beelzebub turned at Gabriel's approach, they cast a softness across his face that reminded zir of what he had been like at the beginning. He was beautiful too.

“I don't care who comes to see an archangel's disgrace,” ze said. “But all right. No lights.”

Gabriel smiled slightly, and Beelzebub was suddenly afraid of what he might say next. Ze weren't here to be afraid or to remember what Gabriel was once. Ze was here for something else, and it was time for zir to take it.

“No, I don't want to hear you run your blessed mouth,” ze said. “Turn around.”

“Beelzebub,” Gabriel started, and with bared teeth, Beelzebub grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him about, lashing out with one foot to snag his ankle and send him sprawling. He had no choice but to catch himself with his hands on the smooth slick surface of the mahogany conference table.

It was an enormous thing, broad and long enough to seat all the archangels and Beelzebub and all zir dukes as well. Just a few weeks ago, ze had sat at the opposite end of the table from where they stood now, blinking with irritation at the morning sun hitting zir eyes and scrubbing half a doughnut into the carpet with zir foot. Ze had been ignoring Gabriel that morning, avoiding his searching gaze, keeping Ligur on zir right and Hastur on zir left as bulwarks against the archangel trying to separate zir from the rest and ask his blessed questions.

_When will you come next?_

_What will you do to me?_

_Please come...?_

Remembering the question in the archangel's eyes only made Beelzebub angrier, and ze growled softly as ze seized the waistband of his trousers and tore them halfway down his legs. Gabriel made a soft sound of dismay at that, _so_ particular about his clothes. That sound caught in his throat when Beelzebub pushed zir fingers between his cheeks and slid down to the cunt ze had made him.

“Shut up,” Beelzebub murmured, “or do you want Michael to hear us?”

Just saying Michael's name made something in Beelzebub shiver, and hungrily, ze drove two fingers into Gabriel's cunt, hard and fast enough that he grunted despite how wet he was.

“How long have you been wet, fuckboy?” Beelzebub growled. “Since we had to avoid those two ninnies with their papers?”

“Since you made me a pussy,” Gabriel said, wrestling himself up onto his elbows. He braced himself against the table, and suddenly it was easier by far for Beelzebub to slip another finger inside him, thrusting hard enough that Gabriel groaned.

“Slut,” Beelzebub said with relish. “Is that what Michael would call you if she could see you now?”

Gabriel's cunt pulsed around Beelzebub's three fingers, and Gabriel shook his head.

“No, she'd never say that.”

Beelzebub licked zir lips.

“Tell me what she would say, then.”

“She'd say... ah, Beelzebub, _easy...”_

Beelzebub thrust harder. This was no human, this was an archangel. Ze couldn't tear him. Ze couldn't hurt him no matter how often Gabriel said ze did.

“That's not what the Archangel Michael would say.”

“No... ah, no. She'd say... she'd say... First, she'd take your head.”

Beelzebub's breath hissed between zir teeth. _Yes..._

“With what?”

Gabriel's head dropped down to his hands, and he took two deep breaths before he answered.

“Her sword. Of course her fucking sword.”

“ _Which?”_

“You're a prince. You're a prince, so you deserve... you deserve honor. It would the one with her name on it, the old one. The Latin-”

Gabriel groaned as Beelzebub spread the fingers in him wide and closed them again.

“ _Quis ut Deus,_ ” Beelzebub said dreamily. “Who is like God. Tell me. Would it cut my head from my shoulders cleanly?”

Gabriel uttered something that neither of them would call a sob.

“ _Yes._ Damn you, yes. The edge is ground down to atoms- _damn you-_ it's the sharpest thing in all of Heaven. She swings it faster than I can call my lightning. I couldn't... Yes. You'd still be blinking when your head hit the floor.”

Something deep inside Beelzebub trembled, soft and silken and wet. Yes, oh yes, zir head would fall from zir shoulders, and Michael's blade would be so sharp that ze could look up from the floor and see her with the trace of the first dawn in her terrible eyes, shock and vengeance and offense that a prince of Hell would defile her brother so.

Gabriel was making soft incoherent sounds deep in his throat, his hips arching obscenely at Beelzebub's thrusts. Almost absently, ze drew back and when ze thrust again, it was with all five digits pressed down together. There was a deliciously wet and sloppy sound as ze pushed in, Gabriel's body clamping down tight on Beelzebub's fingers but unable to stop their advance. Beelzebub buzzed softly at the overwhelming heat of the archangel's cunt.

“So that's me dead and gone,” Beelzebub said, so sunk in the fantasy that ze could hear the thump of zir body hitting the floor and feel the rough industrial carpet against the stump of zir neck.

“No,” Gabriel whimpered, and Beelzebub told zirself it was because he was rocking hard on zir knuckles. Ze had built his passage deliberately small that night, and the muscle had to groan and tremble before giving way.

“Yes,” Beelzebub hissed. “I can't fight with my hand trapped inside you like this, so I'm dead. And then.. then what does she say to you?”

Beelzebub's hand went still so that Gabriel could compose himself. He took several gasping breaths, started to turn his head to look at zir, thought better of it, and let his head hit the table. He was sprawled on it now, flat on the wood as if something in him had given way, given up. His body was meant for war, for the conduction of trillions of volts of electricity. It wasn't meant for this, no matter how delicious he was when he gave himself up to it.

“She wouldn't say _slut,_ but she would say _whore,”_ Gabriel said at last, and then he had to bite the back of his own hand to stifle the wail as Beelzebub pushed zir hand the rest of the way in. Ze could feel it, the moment Gabriel's celestial body gave way before her, the moment that something in him decided that it would submit rather than fight. He wasn't made for that either, but ze loved him like this.

“More,” Beelzebub demanded. “What would she say to you?”

“A disgrace,” Gabriel moaned. “A disgrace, a traitor, _unbefitting_ the duties I bear. She... she has all the words like that, she has _so many_ words...”

“Give them to me.” Beelzebub began to curl zir fingers towards zir upturned palm, and Gabriel rocked on zir wrist as if desperately trying to comfort himself, as if he could somehow make this less brutal than it was if he participated.

“ _Get on your knees,_ ” Gabriel said. “ _Kneel down and accept this.”_

“Like you accepted my fist and my cock and my tongue...”

“She wouldn't say _that._. No. _Get down. Bow your head...”_

Beelzebub uttered a soft cry at that. Gabriel not just humbled but humiliated, Gabriel on his knees, Gabriel wrecked and grief-stricken and surrendered. Zir fingers curled into a tight fist, but Gabriel barely trembled. Ze could smell his tears now along with his misery and his arousal, and oh, this was better than love had been, ze told zirself.

“And then?”

“She'd say... she'd say... _I'm sorry, little brother._ And she'd smite me. Over and over. It'd _hurt_.”

Gabriel's words were punctuated by Beelzebub's short hard thrusts with zir fist. There was resistance now as Gabriel's body protested the treatment his mind had already accepted. Ze guessed he was in shock.

“Tell me.”

“It would hurt worse than anything I had ever felt. I was made to end lives. She was made to make people sorry, and she would ask that, over and over when she hit me. _Are you sorry? Are you sorry? I'll stop if you're sorry...”_

“And what would you say?” Beelzebub demanded, too enthralled by the things Gabriel was saying to be careful.

“ _No.”_

“Don't refuse me, fuckboy,” Beelzebub hissed. “Don't you dare, not with my fist inside you, not when...”

There was a sudden wrench to the world as Gabriel stood up, twisted around, and with one large hand on top of Beelzebub's head, shoved zir down. Beelzebub's wrist bloomed with a sudden hot pain as ze landed on the floor, too well-anchored in Gabriel's body to pull away, and then the conference room was flooded with light.

“Gabriel,” Michael said. “What are you doing in here with the lights turned off?”

Beelzebub saw that Gabriel had made it up to a standing position, bent forward enough to hide the wreck of his trousers. He looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was too easy to imagine him coming to an out-of-the-way refuge to gather his thoughts,such as they were.

“Oh, hey,” Gabriel said, his voice only slightly shaky. “Nothing. Didn't want to stay in my rooms, didn't want to be around people. I come here sometimes.”

“Have you been _crying?”_ Michael asked in surprise. “Why in God's name have you been crying, Gabriel?”

Beelzebub twitched as Gabriel waved away Michael's concern. Ze could feel every motion Gabriel made. Zir hand was going numb.

“It's nothing, Michael. Don't worry about it, okay?”

“It's my job to worry,” Michael said, and then after a moment. “You know I'm worried about you, right? We all are.”

Gabriel made an impressively dismissive sound for someone with a fist buried in his cunt.

“Worried about me? No need for that. I'm-”

“The Archangel fucking Gabriel. We know.”

Something about the fondness in Michael's voice made Beelzebub seethe. How _dare_ she be fond of Gabriel? _No one_ was allowed to be fond of Gabriel. It was ridiculous. It wasn't permitted.

“Right.”

“All right. Have it your way. Only if there is anything... anything at all...”

“I'll know who to run to.”

“Good,” Michael said. “Should I leave the light on for you?”

“No. No. It's... I like it dark.”

“All right.”

There was a click as the lights turned off, and the door shut with a soft pressurized hiss.

Gabriel and Beelzebub were utterly still for a moment, and then Gabriel hissed with pain as Beelzebub started to work zir fist free.

“Beelzebub...”

“Shut up.”

Gabriel obediently went silent, but then he made a surprised sound as Beelzebub, freed, turned him around and leaned up between his spread legs.

“What are you...?”'

“Shut _up.”_

Gabriel's cunt was wet and salty and filthy and slightly bloody, and Beelzebub lapped viciously at the abused flesh, ignoring it when Gabriel's hands landed on zir head.

“Oh... oh fuck, you can't...”

Beelzebub ignored him, because obviously ze could. Ze pressed deeper shoving zir face into the sopping-wet flesh, spreading him zir fingers to lick and kiss and taste more. Nothing was this good. Nothing could be. This was grace disgraced, this was God's favorite riding zir face as if it could save him, this was...

Beelzebub choked slightly on the warm wetness that flooded zir mouth as Gabriel groaned. For a moment, his fingers tightened hard in zir hair, crouching down over zir as if he could protect zir from everything that hung over him. Then the moment passed and he flopped back on the table with a thump.

Beelzebub, who had never really liked being on zir knees, rose at once to inspect the wreck ze had made of Heaven's finest. In the dimness of the conference room, Gabriel seemed to glow, too clothed in some parts, obscenely bare in others. Ze ran zir fingernail over the crease of his thigh, feeling the thrum of blood that ran through his femoral artery.

“I can't” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “Not tonight, okay?”

“All right.”

Beelzebub boosted zirself on up on the table next to him, and after a moment, he sat up as well.

“You smell like me,” Gabriel said.

“Mm.”

Gabriel sighed, and for a moment, Beelzebub thought he was going to say something ridiculous. _Thank you,_ perhaps, or _I liked that._ Gabriel was a fool, always had been, and there was no end to the stupid things he might think to say to zir.

_When can I see you next?_

_Let me come down to see you, we don't have to..._

_Let me touch you. Let me hold you. Let me, let me, let me..._

It seemed, however, that even Gabriel could learn. A snap of his fingers fixed his clothes, but Beelzebub knew he hadn't cleaned or fixed anything underneath. He stood up, only limping a little, and he offered zir his clean hand.

“Come on,” he said. “I think there's a trash chute I can heave you down. You'll be home in a few minutes.”

“Oh,” Beelzebub said, startled by Gabriel's thoughtfulness. “That would be good of you.”

“I _am_ good, remember?” Gabriel said, squeezing zir hand slightly. “I'm the best.”

Beelzebub inspected the statement. Buzzed with irritation. Let it stand.

Ze followed him out of the dark conference room, and underneath them both, creation continued to turn.


End file.
